CULTURE SHOCK: The Janus Door Affair
by Felicia Angel
Summary: Part 1 of the series: Normal is dependant on your time and who you're with. So what happens when two girls are sent back 40 years? A good helping of shock on both ends.


Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm too young to own them...I do own Celeste and Elaine is being borrowed from my friend, though she's only contributing by saying "I like the brunette, he's kinda cute".

Which just means I can keep Illya to myself for another few days...

Synopsis: Normal is dependant on who you're with and what time you've gone through. In that case, those two are normal for their time, but misplaced nearly five decades can create some culture shock.

Culture Shock

**Part 1: The Janus Door Affair**

_May, 200X_

It seemed very odd to Celeste that a large-scale hotel in what was called the East Forties of New York would be known as "Janus", as opposed to 'Motel' or 'Hotel' something or other. Perhaps because it was more of a hostel then a hotel or motel that meant something, but not a lot, at least right now and not when they were in need of a place to stay and had been directed here by a friend from New York City on the grounds of it was nicer then most hostels and motels and cheaper then the usual hotels.

Under the sign that said "Janus Hostel" was a faintly visible inking that once read "Del Floria's" and at that Celeste frowned, glancing over at her co-traveler. "You know, we could make it upstate by the night, if you'd rather travel up. It's not like we're in that much of a hurry."

"We aren't," the curt voice of her friend said, her body obscured by the raised trunk as she fished out the necessary items for the few nights they would stay in the city as well as a few other things that might prove useful, "but that doesn't mean I don't want to stay here. Your friend was the one who said it was nice and safe."

Celeste gave something between a smirk and a smile before adding, "True, but this friend recommended also we take a route that ate up a few hours we could've used sleeping."

"All the recommendations for places to stay were good," her companion said, the trunk slamming shut to reveal the other woman, "Now, are we checking in or not?"

Celeste sighed as she walked around the car to get her own things from the back seat. Celeste was a young woman of medium to average height, standing at about 5'6" and lean from working out. She didn't dress like one who was aware of how they looked: a pair of baggy pants that held a good deal of pockets and wasn't flattering framed her legs while a dark, plain blue shirt covered up her top, the ending act being a pair of older shoes that had seen better days and were a shade of blue-gray she had seen during her small time in the Navy.

Her friend was slightly different. Standing at near the same height, her hair was light red and her eyes were a sharp green color, a shade of blue creeping in during odd moments. Her shirt and pants were more form-fitting to her own slim physique, and it was obvious she spent some time that morning determining what to wear and how her hair would go, though the end result was a slightly messy grouping, much the same to the wild near-curly nature of Celeste's own hair. Chocolate-dark eyes looked over at her friend and smiled as she hefted the last bag up and closed the door, clicking on her key chain to lock the car. "Ready, Elaine?"

The two walked in, Elaine now taking note of the faded sign that had not quite been replaced by the new one. "Del Floria's...Tailor shop?"

"I don't want to know," Celeste told her as they entered, finding the only sign of there having been a shop there to be the desk location and an odd, chrome metal elevator nearby, though the reception area was large enough to have housed the items needed if a tailor had been in business there.

"Can I help you two?" the elderly man behind the desk asked, gaining their attention.

* * *

A few minutes and $30 later, the two went through the oddly chrome interior to the elevator, entering before Celeste spoke up.

"I don't want to know what this place was in a past life to have this type of interior." A light rap on the wall as they got out on their floor and walked forward made her frown. "This stuff is probably fallout-shelter approved."

Elaine shook her head as she turned the old-fashioned key to their room and entered, smiling as she did. "Well, at least this isn't normal hostel living."

Celeste walked in and nearly dropped her jaw. While the room was only one, it had a small divide that separated a small area with two twins from what could be a living room area and another, smaller kitchenette area with a deep sink, cabinets, a mini refrigerator and a microwave. The walls were covered with an off-blue color that was cheap but at least was better then the metal gray of the exterior and even offered a view down to where their car and the street.

"Ready to call up and say you're sorry?" Elaine said smugly as she planted most of her bags on one of the twin beds.

"Fine, it is nice. I still won't forgive him for the bad directions." Celeste dropped her own bags onto the vacant bed and sighed, moving to sit in one of the chairs in the room. "Damn I'm tired."

Elaine shook her head at the comment. "You're the one who insisted on driving for so long, no one to blame but your—"

The sudden tremor that went through the building caused both women to start until it became more pronounced and Celeste cursed, moving to the nearest almost-doorway and pulling her friend along with her. "I thought we got hurricanes and snow on this coast!"

"They do!" Elaine yelled as the whole of the room seemed to tilt inward and, with one last violent toss that sent them both down to the ground, the room stilled.

_Act 1: "Three clicks of red glitter shoes aren't fixing this one..."_

_May, 1965_

"I don't think this is a good idea, sir," the scientist frowned at the new door that had taken the place of one for the storage closet and then back to the superiors who had come down to check on the glitches.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, Number 1 and 2 respectfully of Section 2, cast a glance at the door then back at the scientist and his assistant, who appeared to be more amazed at the fact the door was there and not the same color as the wall as to the fact that their machine had actually worked.

Jameson had been with UNCLE for about five years when he and his assistant had gotten what appeared to be a mess of wires in a box with a small screen attached, courtesy of a raid on a THRUSH satrapy. When they had figured out how to work it, and finally started it up, they had been met with a countdown that forced them behind explosion-proof glass only to see a small antenna let loose some sort of electricity that shot upward then, after a minute, powered down before a small puff of smoke escaped the machine, which was now broken and not about to be repaired anytime soon.

But because of the strange thing, Jameson had gone up to directly above the lab, where an unused storage closet was, and found a door that wasn't supposed to be there, along with hearing some noises behind it.

Thus, you had a small team, plus the two top agents for the UNCLE, looking at it while Jameson wondered who or what was behind there. For all they knew, they had accidentally transported someone from across the country into their Headquarters, and with the machine broken...

This was going to be a headache.

Napoleon looked back at the then said, "So what do you think, Illya?"

"We won't know until we try it, won't we?" the blond-haired Russian answered only a few moments before Solo headed for the door.

While the door's lock was easily picked, finding the chain in place did little to help Napoleon's mood as he cast a small glance into the room, of which he could see a small table and chair, the chair having been tipped over at one point or another. Since voices, female voices in fact, had been heard from inside the room, he would have to guess that someone had either been transported in with the room or had lost their room rather abruptly.

"Hello?" he tried, "Anyone home?"

No answer, and he frowned before saying, "My name is Napoleon Solo, I work here. There seems to be some misunderstandings, and I'd like very much to help you out, if there is anyone in there. Do you know where you are?"

There was another long pause, a slight shuffle from one side where he couldn't really see, then a low muttering of what sounded like two people discussing something. He motioned behind him that there were at minimum two people in there before he looked in again. "Hello?"

A dark-haired young woman popped her head from around the corner, her dark eyes a little annoyed. "We heard you the first time, Bonaparte."

"He's probably heard that before," a calmer though just as annoyed voice said from close by. "You wanna find out where we are, exactly?"

The girl looked over and frowned before looking back at Napoleon. "Where are we?"

He gave her his most charming smile he could manage through a door crack and said, "You're in New York City."

"Ah, then the good news is we didn't move anywhere," she told the invisible person. "Um...stupid question just came to mind."

"There aren't any stupid questions."

She gave him a wry smile. "No, only the ones you get laughed at for asking. But...was there an earthquake earlier?"

He paused at that, then shook his head. "No. Why?"

"There was one here...it shook the apartment pretty badly, enough to throw us to the floor. That'd have to be some powerful earthquake to do that, stronger then the one that hit San Fran."

"In the early part of this century?" Napoleon asked, wanting to confirm it. He hadn't heard of any other quakes hitting San Francisco.

"The one in...um...I think it was late 80's, during a baseball game."

"Late 80's?" Now things were not making sense, but he decided to try a new question. "Do you know what year it is?"

There was a long pause, the confusion then sudden fright showing before she answered, "It's May...what year?"

"It is May...it's 1965."

There was another pause as the girl looked at him as if he was crazy, her eyes searching for him to be bluffing or something like it before the other voice said, "Celeste, what's wrong?"

"He says," she told the voice, "that it's 1965."

He saw her look over at the invisible other person before saying, "Elaine?"

"As Aristotle said...'I drank what?'"

* * *

The two senior agents and scientists watched as Waverly approached, the other teams having dispersed after it turned out there was no immediate threat.

But all of Napoleon's charm, cajoling, and bribery turned out to fall short, as neither girl was moving from the room or opening the door for them.

"I think you're slipping, Napoleon," Illya told him as Waverly walked up.

"He's not, we're just a little worried about stuff!" Celeste's voice said from the doorway as she looked back out, "Who's the accent guy?"

"His name's Illya. Want to talk to him?" Napoleon asked, "He's quite nice, once you get to know him."

"I'd rather not. I'd rather you find whoever got us here and send us back."

"We're trying to figure out how you got here in the first place, the problem, though...is the machine isn't ours."

Elaine's voice now came in, sarcastic and more then a little annoyed, "Wait, you _stole _someone else's machine and used it, not knowing what it would do, and now you broke it?"

"We acquired it," Illya told her in somewhat the same tone of voice, "and it broke itself after its first use."

"So you 'acquired' a POS time machine and now we're stuck here until you or someone else 'acquires' the owner's manual, I take it?"

There was a quiet talk from the other side as Illya tried hard not to bristle while Waverly nodded to them to stand aside. The last thing he needed was time-travelers who were irate with his employees because of a misunderstanding.

"I might be able to clear up a few things, young ladies, if you care to listen," he told them, waiting for a response.

"How many people are out there?" Celeste, who became visible as she looked at the new face at the door, asked.

"Right now, only five. My name is Alexander Waverly, I'm in charge of the building you're currently in and the employer of Mr. Solo and his partner, Mr. Kuryakin. The others are the scientists who were looking at the machine when it malfunctioned and brought you two here."

Celeste paused at that then nodded to him. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Waverly. I'm Celeste. My friend's named Elaine, and I have to apologize ahead of time. We're...kinda in a small shock at the moment."

"Oh, understandable completely, my dear, no need for apologies," Waverly told her, "but as Mr., ah, Kuryakin was saying, the fault was not on us but on the designers of the machine. You see, we're a type of police organization for the world, and we 'acquired', as your friend Elaine so put it, while raiding a base that was going to use this machine for evil. I would like to speak more of this, but I don't think through a door, even one with a gap such as this, would be very comfortable. Perhaps my office? I promise that no one will enter your apartment and that you will be given the best care we can."

No answer, though he saw Celeste move to speak with the still-invisible Elaine. After a second she looked over at Waverly with a frown. "Um...could you up the bet on that?"

"How so?"

"I'm not leaving!" Elaine yelled from her position, "And on top of that, no one is going to make me!"

Celeste moved forward slightly and whispered, "I'd go, but we're paranoid as all hell."

"Because of the times you're from, or--."

Celeste shrugged at the question, looking back. "Image you've gone back about fifty years and some charming gentleman says he'll take care of you. There are enough weirdoes in our time we're paranoid already. Just because we're in the 60's doesn't mean it hasn't change."

Waverly considered it, then nodded. "I see your points. Well, I suppose saying that nothing of the sort will happen won't help?"

"No."

"What could bring her out?"

The answer came from Elaine herself. "A good helping of knock-out gas!"

"I'll go fetch Miss Dancer," Kuryakin said as he turned to leave.

Celeste looked at Waverly, who showed no sign it was a joke, and sighed. "They took that seriously, Elaine."

"Good, I was being serious."

Waverly moved away as he heard Celeste say, "No, you're being overly-paranoid."

"What if they're lying and they want to--."

"Elaine?"

"What?" came the indignant response from the unseen girl.

"You've seen _Sin City_ right?"

A pause. "Why?"

"Remember Benico del Toro."

"He got--."

"I meant what he threatened her with when she had only a chain on the door."

Another pause, then soft mutterings and mainly silence as Kuryakin and April Dancer, UNCLE's top female agent, came up, April looking at the strange door then back to Mr. Waverly. "Do you want me to try and talk them out?"

Waverly explained simply, "Only one might...no, I'd suggest trying to get both, and if not, try to gas them and we'll bring them out that way. Just make sure to not take anything from the apartment. We don't know what might be there."

April nodded her understanding and walked up to the door, pulling out her lipstick with a canister of sleeping gas and a small item that served as metal cutters.

"Hello? Room service?"

"We don't fall for that trick, it's been done on SNL too many times!"

"Elaine, she's not a shark or Chevy Chase."

Seeing no one watching, April quickly cut the chain as she said, "Who?"

"Wait about five to ten years, you'll get the joke then," Elaine told her simply, "Who are you, anyway? I thought there were only guys here."

"No, females too," she didn't open the door just yet, taking off only a part of one ring and closing it slightly to unhook the link. "Name's April Dancer."

"I'm getting a little annoyed with this," she heard Elaine say as she quietly opened the door. "Can't they just leave us alone?"

"We are in their building, Elaine," Celeste answered as April silently crept forward, "What do you expect, really?"

"That they would come in here full force and do horrible things to us."

April paused in her hiding spot as she heard Celeste sigh and say, "That's it, you're no longer allowed to watch zombie movies, horror movies of any sort, or my tentacle hentai."

April decided not to ask as she turned and sprayed, watching the two slump over in the room before saying, "Okay, they're out."

Waverly, Napoleon and Illya walked in, looking over at the unconscious girls who had tried to remain in the room before Waverly said, "Take them up to the conference room, I'll speak to them there. Oh, and see about getting the chain repaired."

* * *

"Are you awake yet?"

"Go 'way, it's Sunday 'n I don't have duty."

Elaine sighed as she looked at the curled-up Celeste, who seemed pleasantly unaware of the fact that they had been out like a light for, according to the older gentleman named Alexander Waverly, fifteen minutes. He sat at a large, circular table with his two operatives, one a tall, handsome man with a clean-cut dark hair, and a strong face, a small dimple showing on his chin, while the other was a shorter, blond man with a Beatles hairstyle that was popular in these days, his eyes a chilly blue color and his face a little plainer.

_The dark one's cute_, she thought randomly as Elaine looked back over to Celeste, still asleep on the couch before resorting to drastic measures.

"You're late."

"Outta the Navy, not late."

At that, Elaine gave a shove, pushing Celeste off the couch. A startled yelp and grab of the back to stop herself from falling completely off, the now-awake Celeste sent a glare to Elaine, who smiled sweetly at her.

"Not," Celeste emphasized as she put a foot down and stood before sitting back on the couch, "funny."

"Hilarious," Elaine told her, "and they kidnapped us like I said they would."

Waverly now spoke up, "For which I'm quite sorry, but I felt it would be better to explain the situation from my briefing room then through a door. You see, you both have landed in the New York Headquarters for the U.N.C.L.E."

The two looked at him and blinked as Waverly continued, "It stands for United Network Command for Law Enforcement. Our job is to help monitor any activity that might cause, ah, shall we say, a ripple effect that could lead to violence anywhere in the world, as well as help countries with any problems they themselves cannot take care of. You've met the CEA of operations here, Mr. Solo, and his partner, Mr. Kuryakin."

"Not in person," Elaine muttered, looking the two over again. Kuryakin was dressed about as well as Solo, but in a darker tone of colors that seemed to emphasize his light hair and fair skin, while Solo was dressed...well, truthfully, like a rich CEO of a company as opposed to CEA.

"No, it was through a door, but just as interesting," Solo said with a smile, nodding Elaine's way. Kuryakin said nothing, simply looking over the two.

Celeste spoke up, "Why wouldn't we have heard of UNCLE? I mean, you guys do work and get media attention, right?"

Waverly smiled as he took out his pipe. "Ah, well, that's the problem at times. You see, we also have an enemy, a group of people who are willing to subject the world to their order of things, and often in a violent way. They're known as THRUSH."

"THRUSH?" Elaine repeated, blinking as her mind worked then she said, "Wait, isn't that a type of bird?"

Kuryakin replied, "It is, they've adopted it as their symbol."

"They adopted a tiny bird as their symbol of terror?"

Celeste looked over at Elaine before saying, "I'm sure they want to be all secretive and cool about it, and a small bird is the best way to be secretive. Cool...not so much. Wait, isn't thrush a type of yeast infection too?"

Elaine looked over at her and shook her head. "Let's get back to evil people who can't name their organizations well and what they have to do with us."

Waverly looked up and muttered, "Ah, yes, well, the device used to bring you two here was confiscated from a THRUSH hideout nearby. Apparently they were working on bringing things backwards into the past, possibly to gain control of markets or be technologically further along then everyone else. I've spoken with the two scientists who had been looking into it, and they believe that they can have the device fixed and send you both home. The only problem is that, well, it will take them a little while."

The two girls looked at the three men standing away, and finally Elaine spoke. "Define 'little'."

Waverly sighed. "They estimate, at best, half a year to a year."

There was more silence as this sank in, Celeste leaning back while Elaine looked at the group like they were crazy. See they were not lying and seemed sincere about the fact that they would help them, she sighed. "You don't happen to find a pair of feet with glittery red slippers on them, did you?"

The ice somewhat broken, Waverly gave the ghost of a smile. "I'm sorry, no, though we will do our best to produce somewhat the same results."

Celeste sat up, than squared her shoulders. "Well, now that that's out of the way...where can we get some food, I'm hungry."

* * *

Illya was not exactly happy with the idea of baby-sitting, even if they were grown adults who could take care of themselves and were staying within the confines of UNCLE walls. Still, it was easy to get lost in the corridors that all looked alike and he was sent to help show them where the commissary was get them fed while Napoleon took care of some paperwork with Waverly.

As it was, he decided he could use a light snack as well, and helped himself as Celeste, the dark-haired girl who apparently didn't care how she dressed took what she could, Elaine the red-head not taking as much and blinking at the selection. "Trying to gain weight, are we?"

"This is just in case I can't find this place again," Celeste said with a smile as she chose a seat, unluckily near some people who happened to dislike him, mainly due to his nationality.

"Hey, new here?" one of the guys asked, catching as Illya sat down with them to whisper, as if Illya couldn't hear, "You don't want to sit next to HIM."

"Um...yes, I do." Celeste said as Elaine sat next to her, glancing over at the man as the two seemed very curious about the whole thing.

"No, you don't! He's a Russian!"

The two girls looked at the men, then back at Illya before Elaine muttered, "I ya dolzhen zabotit's'a ob etom ... pochemu?" -And I'm to care about this...why?-

"Hey, no far using Serb-Cro." Celeste started, looking defensive as the two men who sat their and their female coworker blinked, obviously surprised at the use of another language.

"It's Russian, actually," Elaine told her, "I thought you could tell the difference." There was a faint teasing her in voice, and the smirk didn't help as Illya looked at Elaine oddly, trying to remember the last time he'd heard his native language spoken away from his lessons with Napoleon or around the Slavic block of New York.

Celeste paused, frowning then sighed. "Maldito, no me preocupo en qué lengua esto está, no lo sé!" -Damn it, I don't care what language it is, I still don't know it!-

"O, i povorachivayas' k ispanskomu yazyku, kogda ya ne znayu, eto spravedlivo?" -Oh, and turning to Spanish when I don't know it is fair?-

"Ver, ahora usted es grosero sólo. Ellos trataban de decirnos que él es el ruso y de alguna manera esto es una cosa mala." -See, now you're just being rude. They were trying to tell us that he's Russian and somehow that's a bad thing.-

"Pozhalujsta, prekratite sporit'. Moya golova povrezhdayet ot perevoda." Illya added in, getting Elaine's attention. -Please, stop arguing. My head hurts from translating.-

Elaine looked over to Celeste, "He knows both languages."

"Oh, I guess now we have someone to chat with secretly and plot demises, huh?" Celeste said, looking over only to find the three who had started the track of conversation had left. "Aw, we scared them off."

"Good," Elaine said as she took another bite from her sandwich she had gotten, "They were annoying."

Illya shifted, a thought nagging at him. "If you don't mind my asking, why _aren't _you two worried or overly dramatic about me being Russian?"

There was a pause from the two before Elaine said quietly, "Shit, I forgot about that part of history."

"What—oh, yeah, the whole Communist thing," Celeste added as she took a sip of the orange juice she had gotten. "How much should we tell him?"

"I can take it that Communism has become something that America isn't too worried about in your day, whenever that is," Illya stated, eating his own food.

"It's...not really a threat anymore. There're enough threats out there that Communism and what you believe in for government isn't really that big of a deal," Celeste told him.

"Well, it _can _be," Elaine pointed out, "but Communism isn't one of them."

"Everything else is," Celeste pointed out, "no point in worrying about foreign threats when your own neighbor could be an evil axe-murderer."

"And _I _am not allowed horror films?"

Celeste shrugged. "Nope, but only because they give you nightmares; they give me ideas."

Elaine looked over at Illya. "Fear for the future youth of the world, if you will."

"I think I will."

_Act 2: "Things are not Looking Up for us."_

Napoleon smiled as Elaine, who appeared to not have the same paranoia as before, let him in. "Can you displace the Russian? Celeste has been beating us in Mortal Kombat."

"Pardon?"

"It's a game…it involves various weirdly-clad fighters going around beating each other senseless and, if you can, killing the other as originally as possible. She's destroying us."

"Ah…" Napoleon had no clue, but it sounded like something Illya would play only because it was there and interesting. He walked in to see the two in front of a small screen, what appeared to be controllers attached to it. Celeste and Illya both had a look of concentration as they played.

"Illya, are you dead yet?" Elaine asked, walking around the sofa to watch. "Oh…he's actually holding his own."

Napoleon walked around to look as well, blinking as he saw the moving, animated people on the screen who were, as Elaine had said earlier, 'beating each other senseless'.

"Who are you, Illya?" Napoleon asked, looking down at his blond friend.

"He's called Shao Khan, an evil sorcerer from what I've learned," Illya told him without looking up.

"And that," Elaine added, "is Sub Zero. I think she decided to be evil."

"How--," Napoleon started, then stopped as an icy figure appeared, freezing Illya's character when he touched it and allowing Celeste to conduct a few complicated maneuvers before 'Shao Khan' landed hard and then stood, his head rotating and, in dark letters, the words "Finish Him!", which was echoed by a deep voice.

"And this is me," Celeste said in a sing-song voice as her fingers moved over a few buttons and the animation turned brutal, "ripping off your arms, beating you with them, and tearing out your spine." She smiled up at Napoleon. "Wanna go?"

"Um, no," Napoleon told her, "I was here to fill you both, and Illya, in on some information about those who created the device."

The two girls looked up at him, while Illya put the controller down with a sigh as Celeste turned back around to turn off the machine then waited for Napoleon's plan.

Napoleon gave a small smile, "Well, the THRUSHies we took the machine from know we have it, and probably used it, but they don't know to what extent. We need to bring them out."

"We're bait, aren't we?" Elaine asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

"Oh, you'll be perfectly safe," Napoleon told her, "we will ensure that you'll have tracers on you both, and we'll be following closely behind."

"Again, bait," Elaine said.

"Sound's fun," Celeste said, "When can we do it?"

Elaine looked over at her dark-haired friend, sighed, than looked back at Napoleon. "You're so going to pay for this if one of us gets hurt."

"I, ah, guessed as much."

Celeste smiled at Elaine. "Oh, come on, what else is there to do except lure in unsuspecting UNCLE agents and beating them at Mortal Kombat?"

"Beating them at Tekken 5, or whatever other one you have," Elaine said, "Either way, it would work out better than being bait for psychos with a bird fetish."

Celeste stood and then leaned against the couch. "Yes, but it seems _nice, _them letting us be bait and helping out with the spy work."

Illya stood as well, moving to stand next to Napoleon, "And all of those we have used for, as you put it, bait have all come back relatively unharmed and, if anything, were well off afterwards. Usually it's us they want to 'talk' to."

Elaine looked over at Celeste, then back to the two where Napoleon played dirty and gave her a smile that, while not a full one, was full of charm. "It will help you both get home a lot easier."

Elaine blinked, shaking, and then slumped slightly in defeat. "Fine."

* * *

"That was a low-blow," Elaine said as she looked over the clothing that they had been given to change into as Napoleon and Illya got the information for them, as well as the tracers and spoke to Waverly about the idea.

"What was?"

"He _smiled _at me."

Celeste chuckled as she changed. "Yes, I noticed, and you melted like chocolate in Death Valley at noon in summer. Are you done feeling sorry for the fact that you're warm-blooded like the rest of us and changed yet?"

"Almost, though I must admit that the one thing I _won't _miss is the outfits. Why can't we get something else?"

Celeste shrugged as she cast a look at the small pumps they had been given. She hated most heels as a given and these one were in that list of 'things Celeste does not like'. "Maybe it's just what they had. Beggars can't be choosers."

"No, but we can complain long and loudly. I honestly think it'll be easier if we run off in our own outfit."

"It probably will be," Celeste said, "but we have to work under the impression they think we were smart enough to tackle and disrobe a few of the ladies for protection. I wonder if we get guns too."

Elaine sighed as she looked down at the sweater and skirt she was wearing. "He still plays dirty."

Celeste, who tested walking in the pumps, cast her friend a surprised look. "Gee, I wouldn't have guessed, him being a spy and all."

"Celeste? Less sarcasm, we might need it later and you only have so much."

Celeste smiled at her. "Well, at least we get to meet the people who are ultimately responsible for us being here and we can later beat them senseless."

Elaine considered, and then smiled. "First good news I've heard today."

The two girls were aware of the tails shortly after they left one of the other exits, finally walking out into the 1960's for the first time.

"This is something out of a sci-fi novel!" Celeste said.

"No kidding. Come on, let's get away and see if we get noticed."

A block later they were cornered in an alley and looking at men with guns.

"Hi!" Elaine said, "Um...do you know the way to the World Trade Center? We'd like to get in a picture."

* * *

Napoleon sighed as he watched the girls get moved into the car. "Well, that didn't take too long. I guess they were waiting for something like this."

"The red-head, Elaine, knows Russian."

"Oh?"

"They made a mention that Communism wasn't as large of a threat as it is now, at least not to the point where they view me as a threat for my nationality."

Napoleon nodded his understanding. Illya had been very shy and had his own version of culture shock when he had come to America. While he had resisted most of Napoleon's advances for friendship during the first part of their partnership, in the end Napoleon had won over and, if anything, had started what seemed like a personal crusade to make others not as suspicious of his friend just because of his name and country of origin. That the two girls had accepted his nationality and person so quickly and not had anything against him straight away, that one had actually known Russian, was all the more reason for them to be kept safe so their future would be safe.

After all, they could live long enough to see this world they came from.

Illya parked as the signal told them their quarry was in the building. It had taken a good amount of time to get there, and they had to follow them discreetly, leaving the two young ladies alone for far too long in Illya point of view. They could easily be hurt, tortured...killed.

The two had been very nice, happily showing him the odd game and, after he had gotten the idea, admitting to not being the best ever at such games. They had not complained about him being Russian, in fact Elaine seemed happy to be able to talk with him in the few languages she knew, and Celeste was mainly interested in the various changes between 1965 and their own year, whatever it was. Neither had spoken to him about it and, as it was, not many of the items they had mentioned it either.

Napoleon and he got out of the car, each ready for a confrontation should one happen. The building was old and probably abandoned, not unlike most satrapies that they had brought down during their time together as agents.

"We'd best be careful," Napoleon said as they slowly approached the side, "who knows--."

The feel of a gun barrel against his neck stopped Illya as it stopped Napoleon. The two gave a silent look, then held up their hands in surrender.

_Act 3: "Our Knights in Shining Armor are Losers in Tinfoil."_

After roughly being searched, their back ups and communicators removed, the two were lead up by the two who had caught them, both UNCLE agents looking around the area for anything that might help them later in the escape or, subsequently, release of their two innocents that they had failed to help.

The main door to what had to be the head of the THRUSH satrapy opened and a large man looked out, taking up most of the door and forcing both men to crane their necks to see his face.

"These them?"

"Yes, these have to be. Let them in," one of the guards said, and forcing the tall and large THRUSHie to move as Napoleon then Illya was shoved in and the door closed behind them, causing them to look back and then up at the guard. "Um...hi?" Napoleon started, "we were looking for two girls, about--."

"Napoleon." Illya's voice caused him to look over and see a rather rare sight. In one corner, hog-tied of all things, was the supposed head of the other satrapy where the time machine had been taken from. To one side was a woman who had been his second in command, on her lap the somewhat bemused scientist that was supposed to have created the machine in the first place. As the last time they had seen the woman she had not been happy under the man's leadership, it appeared she had opted a coup of sorts.

"I, ah, take it you're in charge of this now?" Napoleon asked, he and Illya obviously confused.

"Of course not!" the woman said, "I _hated _it. I did what I could for the poor professor, and all I want is some recognition that I can do more then take notes and kill people! Instead, I get pats on the head like I'm some sort of trained cat! I was hoping you two could put in a good word for me with your organization when I officially defect."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged a glance, then looked back at the huge man behind them, who stood in front of the door and obviously was in on it too.

"If not you...then..."

A door opened from the other side and Celeste looked out, smiling at the two. "Hey there! Took you two long enough, but I guess that's expected when you're trying to be discreet. They didn't rough you up or anything? Just tell us who and Mondo here," she patted the large man, "will take care of it."

"Um...no, we're fine. Where's Elaine?" Illya asked, looking over as the other future lady walked up and sighed.

"I told you so."

"What? They came!"

Elaine looked over at the soon-to-be-former-THRUSH lady and said, "Remember this. 'My knight in shining armor turned out to be a loser in tinfoil'."

"Elaine, we do need to destroy this place, make sure all the blame is on him," Celeste pointed at the man, "and get out of here with Mondo, Danielle and Dr. Allerman." She looked back at the guys. "Do you want to sit down and figure this out with us?"

"If it means an explanation...yes," Napoleon said, "And we were going to save you two. We just didn't realize you had coerced so many so quickly."

Elaine motioned to the seats and shook her head. "Trust me, it wasn't as hard as they probably wanted it to be. What happened was..."

* * *

"_Hey, lady!"_

"_Danielle, please," the THRUSH guard, a lady who appeared to be annoyed with her designation, looked over at them, "and what?"_

"_Who's the large sleeper?"_

"_Him? He was some random guy who came in, and we were lucky enough to subdue. He's been asleep for some time, but they're waiting on word about possibly brainwashing him to work for—why am I telling you this!?"_

_Elaine shrugged, looking at Celeste. "You're obviously bored with the no-end job you have and need some outlet. Talking among other women usually helps out. At least, I've heard it does."_

_Danielle sighed and walked over, careful to not let the two get too close to the keys, "Well, considering I'm the only girl in this whole operation, I do have a few issues."_

"_Like?"_

_Danielle pointed over to the somewhat older gentleman, who was asleep on a cot in the next room. "The way they treat Dr. Allerman. He's been nothing but cooperative for them, and now, because the idiot upstairs lost his time-travel machine, he has to be down here!"_

"_With the fruits of his experiment," Celeste pointed out, "That's a bummer."_

"_A what?"_

"_A bad thing, a bummer. It's a word we get sometime in the course of our lifetime that works its way in and out of popular culture, like 'cool' only not."_

_Danielle nodded in understanding then a thought occurred to her. "UNCLE sent you as bait, didn't they?"_

"_I told them it was a stupid plan." Elaine sighed as she looked upward, as if the guidance was there, then added, "Why not just do a coup?"_

_Danielle blinked. "What?"_

"_Help us and Dr. Allerman escape. We wake up the large man--."_

"_Mondo," Celeste said with a grin._

_Elaine glared at Celeste then said, "For the bad joke, _you _wake him up."

* * *

_

"So you four took over the operation?" Illya asked.

"It helps if you have a rather large person to bust down a secret entrance," Celeste said, smiling at 'Mondo' as she called him, "afterwards only a few people thought of anything about a guy who takes up the door helping the higher-up. We just have them doing their usual work, waiting for you two so we can get out of here and burn the place down."

"So sayeth the pyro..." Elaine muttered.

"Hey!"

Napoleon held up his hand. "All that aside, I take it there's a way out from the basement?"

'Mondo' and Danielle nodded before Napoleon said, "Then here's an idea."

* * *

The door to the THRUSH head's room burst open, revealing the thus-unseen head of the operation, who was removing a gag from his mouth as he yelled, "You idiots, hurry! They're getting away!"

There was only a brief rush of confusion before almost all of the guards who could rushed down towards the basement where the prisoners were kept, the head of the satrapy following closely behind, his knowledge of what was going to happen in his mind and he himself smiling. Did those fools forget he was in the same room, or that he wouldn't escape?

The small group rushed into the basement and paused when they realized two things. There was no one there, and the wall that was supposed to have been broken for the group to get into his room was not.

Behind them, the door to the basement closed and was locked as Celeste, Illya and Mondo moved what they could towards the door to block it.

"I hope that holds 'em off long enough for us to get to the car," Elaine pointed out as she handed the gun back over to Napoleon.

"It should," he told them, "Come on, let's get out of here."

The group nodded and turned to run, stopping only when shots were fired in their direction and they had to hide while Napoleon returned fire with deadly accuracy.

"This," Celeste said as she hid with Mondo keeping her and Elaine safe, "is starting to piss me off."

Elaine nodded. "But at least I was wrong. They're not losers in tin foil."

Illya cast her a look then sighed. "Well, it's nice to be appreciated."

"It'd be nicer if I had more bullets," Napoleon muttered as he checked his gun while the guards seemed to take turns firing at them. "I'm down to two. Anyone have another gun?"

The group looked at him and he gave a shy smile. "Ah, no then?"

Elaine rolled her eyes and looked over at Celeste. "And we wonder how people survived the 60's."

"It's called growing older. Can we move on and try to get the hell out of here?"

"Agreed," Illya said, looking around Mondo. "I think we can get to the door if we distract them."

"Idea," Mondo said quickly, moving to one of the larger crates before picking it up.

"Wait, Mondo!" Celeste started but the large man instead turned and tossed it, a small red spot blossoming as the few guards scattered from the attack.

"Go!"

Celeste started to protest but Elaine succeeded in dragging her away as the group headed out, the distraction that was needed tossing one more box before falling down.

"We have to go back for him!"

Illya reported in over the radio and paused to listen before saying, "An UNCLE team is heading there now, they've gotten most of the guards and a medic is ensuring his safety. Don't worry."

Elaine did what she could to calm Celeste down while Napoleon kept an eye on the escaped doctor and the newest recruit from THRUSH. Celeste obviously was worried, but for now they had to get out of there, and the reinforcements that had not been too far away were taking care of him.

_Act 4: "Well, now that we've proven Stephen Hawking wrong..."_

"He's okay!" Celeste beamed as she left the medical part of UNCLE to speak to Elaine. "They said he should be up and back home in no time. I guess I reminded him of his daughter. She's nice, too."

Elaine smiled. "Well, I heard from Danielle too...apparently we're to go and meet with Dr. Allerman in a few minutes up in Waverly's office, something about the device and our stay here."

Celeste nodded, heading out with Elaine as they made their way through the corridor to where Napoleon was waiting for them. It had only been a day since the actual rescue and now they were waiting anxiously for the results on when they could get back home.

Dr. Allerman looked up as the two girls and agents walked in to the conference room where Waverly and he waited. "Ah, how was he?"

"He's better," Celeste said, "I guess it was a minor wound. Told you that was a good nickname, Elaine."

"When was that movie made?"

Celeste paused, thinking, than said, "Um...can we just listen to what Dr. Allerman has to say?"

Dr. Allerman smiled at the two. "Well, first of all, the machine is going to need about a year to be fixed."

"WHAT?" the two female voices were amazed, outraged, and a little scared.

Dr. Allerman held up his hands to the two. "You must understand, in order to generate the energy needed to create a temporal field of the same type that brought you here, we will need the adequate parts, and that took me a year to create and calibrate. Even with UNCLE's help, it will take me that long as well because of the delicate nature of the machine. You see--."

Celeste held up her own hand, obviously sensing a science lecture about to come. "Excuse me, Dr. Allerman?"

"Yes?"

"As cool as time-travel can be and as much as I'd love to hear your explanation of what happened, my brain goes 'huh' at most higher-algebra problems. Do you have laymen's terms to use?"

He paused before nodding. "What happened to create the effect was effectively creating a bubble around the area and transferring all within it to another time, putting it over the other. The storeroom, therefore, is still in tact but the bubble you two are in has moved it to another space, or perhaps used it to replace you in your time. Granted, when we send you back, it will be no time that has passed, but for here, it will be almost a year."

Napoleon now asked a question. "Sir, wouldn't them helping us have disrupted their own time?"

"Not necessarily," Dr. Allerman told him, "Time travel, while now as science, is also a very unstable one. I would want to destroy my machine and notes after this to prevent another such occurrence from happening to anyone, or it falling into the wrong hands."

"So the unsure rules of science fiction for time travel still apply?" Elaine said, "Oh, joy."

Waverly and the others looked to them while Dr. Allerman nodded to Elaine and Celeste, seeing that they might be able to describe it a little clearer then he could.

Elaine sighed. "Imagine time as a...tub, I guess, or lake, something full of water. There are a few theories as to how time travel actually works. One is saying you take water from one area and put it into another. Time, therefore, shouldn't be affected. But if you also took it a certain way, or time isn't like that, the ripples could disrupt other things."

"You forgot the Alternate Universes too," Celeste pointed out, "Say that we come back and change something. Could be big, could be small, but that change affects everything. The idea is much the same as the Butterfly Effect."

Illya nodded, and said, upon seeing Napoleon's slight confusion, "The idea is that the world is so inter-connected that a butterfly's wing movements in China could cause a snow storm in New York."

"The same," Celeste pointed out, "works for time. Even the smallest of changes can cause a change that you won't notice until you get back to your own time. But wait, if we're in a bubble, wouldn't we be unaffected by any changes?"

"For that matter, while we're on alternate universes, how do we know we're in our own timeline?" Elaine added, then looked over and said, "Say 'when' if your brain hurts."

"When," Napoleon said quickly, "but the fact remains that we're not sure which one it is. So no matter what happens, you two leaving might cause a change in history."

Dr. Allerman nodded as Waverly sat, adding tobacco to his pipe. "Mr. Solo, they already have. Their appearance has obviously changed what would have been the normal course of events for the day, as well as taken Dr. Allerman from THRUSH's clutches."

"It could," Celeste said, "be a loop."

Waverly looked at her. "A loop?"

"Time's linear? That's what we're going on. But if we go on our _own _time being linear, then no matter what happens or what time we're in, we go forward and Time goes with us. Pre-destiny and all that weird stuff."

"Pre-destiny," Waverly said, "as in we are not in charge of our own decisions."

Celeste nodded. "We are who we are and thus make that decision, never to know what we would have done in another situation because no matter what, we do that. Our actions are pre-determined and thus cannot be changed."

Illya frowned. "I dislike that idea."

"It's better then step on a butterfly now and cause World War Three in 1983," Elaine pointed out, "which doesn't happen."

The group from the 60's let out the obvious relief at the statement and Waverly looked at the two. "Well then, let us get you both settled and see about what to do with you for the time you are here."

* * *

"Well," Elaine said as the door closed behind Napoleon and Illya, who had helped them find their way back, leaving them with a smile from Napoleon that made Elaine visibly melt, "any good news?"

"We have wi-fi."

* * *

Napoleon sat at his desk, looking over the paperwork. "Well, I suppose we should be happy there wasn't any problems with those two staying here, though I'm sure they'd like to return to their own time."

"I wouldn't put it past them," Illya said, "not just for the amount of damage that could be done, but for the shock."

"Elaine's pretty cute, though, isn't she?"

Illya sighed. "You have a one-track mind."

"Well?"

"Just finish your stack of papers, Napoleon. I would like to go home sometime tonight."

* * *

"Well," Celeste said, leaning to look over at Elaine as she changed clothing, "now that we've proven Stephen Hawking wrong, what else can we do?"

"How about sleep in?"

Celeste grinned. "Sounds like a plan. Though, I would like to take over the world."

Elaine gave a small grin. "You realize you're Pinky, right?"

"Hey!"


End file.
